


a thousand reasons why

by the_problem_with_stardust



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Professors, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Don’t copy to another site, Kid Fic, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski are Siblings, M/M, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Professor Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Speaks Polish, Stiles Stilinski's Name is Mieczysław, but the author does not, proceed at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: Who had the nerve to ring the doorbell at eight o’clock in the morning on a Sunday?Stiles sighed, setting down his paintbrush and muting the Mozart thrumming through the speakers. Wiping his hands on his pants, he opened the front door to find an unfamiliar man on his porch.The man took in Stiles’ torn, paint splattered jeans and colorful hands before finding his voice. “Hi, my name is Derek Hale. I’m your new neighbor.”Any lingering grumpiness faded quickly in the face of Derek’s shy smile.





	a thousand reasons why

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this four? years ago? after I had to drop my third major to a minor because the workload did not spark joy. But I was sad so I let Stiles do all of the things. And also tried my hand at writing kids, WHICH IS REALLY REALLY HARD YALL! There were plans to expand this fic into a longer story, but I'm trying to empty out the graveyard so I figured I might as well stick it here.
> 
> Anyway, I dont know Polish and I barely know English, so let me know if you see any glaring mistakes <3

PROLOGUE

Who had the nerve to ring the doorbell at eight o’clock in the morning on a Sunday?

Stiles sighed, setting down his paintbrush and muting the Mozart thrumming through the speakers. Wiping his hands on his pants, he opened the front door to find an unfamiliar man on his porch.

The man took in Stiles’ torn, paint splattered jeans and colorful hands before finding his voice. “Hi, my name is Derek Hale. I’m your new neighbor.”

Any lingering grumpiness faded quickly in the face of Derek’s shy smile.

“Nice to meet you, Derek. I’m Stiles.” He fluttered his fingers apologetically. “I would normally shake your hand, but…”

Derek’s smile widened. “I am glad to see I didn’t wake you. It’s early and some people like to sleep on the weekend.”

He seemed to realize he was rambling and stopped abruptly. Stiles leaned against the doorframe, waiting for him to collect his thoughts.

“I’m new here and the sitter I had set up bailed on me. I realize it is a lot to ask, but I was wondering if you could keep an eye on my kids this afternoon.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. This was not how he expected the conversation to go. “You don’t even know me. I could be a serial killer.”

“I only started at Beacon Chemical a week ago, and I wouldn’t ask unless it was an emergency,” Derek said, voice tight.

“Okay,” Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “Just tell me when and where.”

Relief spread across Derek’s face. “If you could come by at 2? I have to leave by 2:30.”

“It’s not like I have any plans for today.”

 

CHAPTER 1

_Two months later…_

It was almost six o’clock before Stiles started to worry. Derek was supposed to be back from work an hour ago and, in the two months Stiles had been acting as a backup babysitter for the Hale’s, Derek had never been late. The most likely scenario was that he got held up at the plant.

Stiles glanced at the clock. He only had fifteen minutes to get to class.

“So żabko, would you like to come to school with me?”

Casey looked down at the mess of paint covering the table. “Can I bring my picture?”

Stiles laughed. “No, kochanie. You should leave this picture to dry. But I have colored pencils and crayons you can bring to the lecture.”

“What is a lec-ture?” Casey’s eyes were bright and curious.

“You know how you go to preschool every day? It’s like preschool for grown-ups.”

Casey was thoughtful for a moment. “Can Daddy go to a lec-ture?”

“Well, your daddy already did. That’s how he became an engineer.” Stiles took one of Casey’s colorful arms and began washing the layers of paint away.

 

\----------

\---------------------------------------

\----------

 

The door was barely open before words were spilling out of Derek’s mouth.

“Stiles, I am so sorry. There was a fire at the plant…”

Straightening from where he was sprawled across the couch reading, Stiles held a finger to his lips.

“The kids are in bed,” he whispered.

Derek hadn’t realized how worried he was until the relief came crashing down. “Thank you. For everything.”

Stiles closed his book and stood up. “It was no trouble Derek. Casey even decided she likes college better than preschool.”

“You brought them to class?”

Stiles shrugged. “It is never too early to start encouraging post-secondary education.”

The comment earned him a tired laugh. “Really though, thank you. I don’t say it enough.”

Being a single parent was difficult and Stiles had made that burden a whole lot lighter.          

He smiled softly, an unfamiliar expression on his face. “Dobranoc, Derek.”

\---

It was a last resort, Derek told himself as he listened to the phone ring.

“Dr. Stilinski.” The voice that answered was brisk and professional.

Derek pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it uncertainly. “Stiles?”

“Derek?” Something clattered on the other end of the line. Definitely Stiles. “What’s wrong?”

Derek sighed into the phone. “It’s Casey. She’s refusing to go to sleep, and I don’t know what to do.” The exhaustion and defeat were evident in his voice.

“Hang in there, big guy.” There was a rustling noise, and Derek could picture Stiles trying to tug on his shoes and pull a sweatshirt over his head at the same time. “I’ll be over in a sec.”

Only a moment later, there was light tap at the front door. Then Stiles was letting himself into the house, careful not to wake Jacob.

Despite the late hour, he looked wide awake. “Is she alright?”

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling utterly exhausted. “I wish I knew. Jacob never had nightmares.”

Stiles pushed past him and headed up the stairs to Casey’s room. He was greeted by soft purple walls and a little girl hiding under the covers. “Hey there, żabko. How are you doin’?”

Stiles sat down next to the lump on the bed, waiting until Casey poked her tear stained face out. “Stiles?” her voice sounded raw.

“Yeah, kochanie?”

“Will you sing to me?”

Stiles smiled, smoothing Casey’s sweaty bangs away from her forehead. “Sure thing.”

Derek stood in the doorway for a moment, listening to the low voice sooth his daughter to sleep. Then he shook himself out of his thoughts and walked back down the stairs toward the kitchen.

It was almost half an hour before Stiles joined him, dropping heavily into a chair. His alertness from earlier was gone, replaced by an expression of bone-deep weariness.

Wordlessly, Derek poured another mug of coffee and held it out to him. Stiles wrapped his hands – free of any art medium for once – around it, soaking in the warmth. Derek leaned against the counter and watched him take a sip.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so quietly he wasn’t sure the other man caught it.

Stiles smiled into his coffee. It was a sad, fleeting thing, so unlike his usual cheerfulness. “It was no problem at all. If it happens again, don’t hesitate to call.”

Derek stared at him as if he had only met Stiles this morning, instead of nearly four months ago. He looked older, sitting at Derek’s kitchen table, hunched over the steaming mug. But the oversized sweatshirt he wore swallowed him down to almost mid-thigh.

With a sigh, Stiles drained the rest of the coffee and looked toward the clock. It was a little after four in the morning. “I hate to run, but I have class in a few hours.” He pushed his chair back. “Thanks for the coffee.”

After he left, Derek’s brain finally caught up. The greeting on the phone this morning must have meant that Stiles wasn’t a student, but rather a professor. For some reason that changed Derek’s perspective on everything.

Later that day, after getting the kids ready for daycare and making the drive to Beacon Chemical, Derek allowed his mind to wander. Dr. Stilinski. He knew Stiles was fond of art. He was always sporting some form of paint or ink or charcoal on his fingers and clothing. But he also had a love of music.

Sometimes Derek would hear beautiful piano melodies drift across the yard from an open window. And he sang like an angel. Then there was the time he left a massive leather-bound tome of the collected works of Shakespeare on the couch after he had watched the kids for a night.

Derek resolved to ask about Stiles’ subject next time they crossed paths.

\---

Unfortunately, three days passed before he saw Stiles again. It was Friday night and Jacob was over at a friend’s house for a birthday party. Derek was standing at the sink washing dishes when the familiar rumble of an engine drew his attention next door. Stiles unfolded from driver’s seat of the candy-blue Jeep, looking beat.

He was wearing a full suit with the tie hanging loose around his neck. Derek had never seen him in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt, so it was a surprise. He watched as his neighbor stood on the porch, fumbling with his keys. It took a couple tries, but once he had the right key, Stiles stayed where he was, leaning his forehead against the door.

“Daddy.” Casey was standing behind him, holding a painting she had done at preschool. “I have a present for Stiles.”

Derek turned back to the house across the yard. Stiles was no longer on the porch, but it had definitely looked like he might need some alone time.

But Casey was insistent, going so far as to put on her shoes and coat herself. Derek allowed himself to be dragged out of the house and to Stiles’ porch.

 

CHAPTER 2

Stiles considered ignoring the knock. An unopened whiskey bottle sat on the counter and he wanted nothing more than to drink until he forgot what day it was. He sighed and straightened his shirt, checking the bags under his eyes in the stainless steel.

Derek looked surprised when he answered the door. Casey was tugging at his hand, an infectious smile on her face. Stiles smiled back, but he knew Derek could see how strained it was. “Hey there żabko. What have you got?”

Casey proudly showed Stiles her painting – a mess of blues and pinks and greens. Her happy smile was almost enough to pull him out of his funk.

“That’s beautiful, kochanie. How ‘bout you come in and hang it on the fridge?” Again, Stiles’ smile didn’t meet his eyes.

Derek followed them into the house, clearly realizing he had never actually been inside. Stiles was long past the point of feeling ashamed over the casual chaos of his habitat. The entryway was covered floor to ceiling in books – everything from ancient volumes with crumbling spines to brightly colored paperbacks adorned the shelves. Many were in Polish, leftover from his mother’s collection.

Casey held her painting against the fridge while Stiles dug through a drawer to find a magnet. The one he unearthed was a smiling bumble bee that made Casey giggle. But Derek’s eyes were on the whiskey bottle.

“Stiles.” The quietness of his voice made him look away from Casey’s antics. Derek gestured at the whiskey bottle. “We should talk.”

Stiles sighed, picking at the fabric of his dress slacks with uncharacteristically clean hands. “Alright Casey, how do you feel about making another picture? I’ll even let you use my chalk pastels.”

Casey cheered, clapping her hands as Stiles set out paper and the promised art supplies. “Your daddy and I are going to be in the studio. Call us if you need something, okay kochanie?”

Derek waited to speak until they got to the studio. Then, he was immediately distracted by his surroundings. The walls and ceiling were painted like clouds at sunset, giving the illusion of flying in an airplane while the sun started to dip below the horizon.

“Whoa,” he breathed.

Stiles smirked. “You should see my room. It is some of my finest work.”

He could almost see Derek talking himself out of it, trying to remember what he wanted to say before his thoughts had been derailed. Which honestly hadn’t been Stiles’ intent.

“I wanted to ask if you were alright.”

Stiles managed another fake smile. “Of course, Derek.”

“Really,” Derek stared him down. “Because I saw you on the porch when you came home and that did not look alright.”

Collapsing onto one of his stools, Stiles said, “There was a holiday party at work.”

Derek waited, knowing that wasn’t the reason he was upset.

Stiles leaned forward onto his drafting table, head in his hands, fingers buried in the gelled spikes of his hair. “I didn’t want to go.” He took a shuddering breath and wondered if he was going to cry. “Tomorrow would have been my best friend’s 28th birthday.”

Derek hesitated, as if unsure he should prompt him to say more or if he should try to offer empty condolences. Clearly they both knew that hollow words meant nothing, but Derek seemed to be at loss for what to do. Stiles solved the problem by speaking again.

“Today is the tenth anniversary of her death.” He set his shoulders, trying to hide the way they trembled.

“Here is what we’re going to do. I am going to go home and put Casey to bed. Then I am going to come over and get you. You can bring your Jack if you want, but you don’t have to be alone.” Derek gently squeezed his hands. “I may not have been doing this for ten years, but I do know that you never find anything good at the bottom of a bottle.”

Stiles straightened up, taking deep breaths until his voice was steady. “I am truly sorry you had to see me like this. You and Casey can go home. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” Even Derek seemed surprised by his outburst. “You aren’t fine and no one expects that from you. You don’t have to talk, but I would prefer knowing you were safe.”

Stiles sighed and looked at his hands. Derek seemed to take that as his cue to go. “Alright Casey, let’s get you to bed.”

The little girl was scribbling furiously, streaked in chalk up to her elbows.

“But daddy, I want to give my picture to Stiles.”

Derek sighed, loud enough for Stiles to hear in the other room. “Sorry baby girl. Stiles isn’t feeling very well right now, but I am sure if you leave the picture here, he’ll see it later.”

Casey frowned. “Will it make him feel better daddy?”

Looking at the smudges of bright colors covering the paper, Derek smiled. “Yes. It will definitely make him feel better.”

Humming contentedly, Casey allowed Derek to pick her up and carry her home.

The moment the door closed, Stiles took a deep breath and tugged his tie the rest of the way off his neck.

 

\----------

\---------------------------------------

\----------

 

When Casey was cleaned up and in bed, Derek crossed the lawn. Part of him was afraid that Stiles would lock him out, but much to his surprise, he opened the door before Derek could knock. He had changed into sweatpants and the now familiar baggy sweatshirt, both of which were splattered with paint. In one hand, he held a sketchbook and in the other, the bottle of Jack.

They crossed the yard silently and, once back inside, Derek pulled two tumblers down from the cabinet. “Here we don’t drink straight from the bottle. We aren’t heathens.”

Stiles graced him with a ghost of a smile, reaching for his drink. For the first time, Derek saw the years reflected within his eyes. With his endless optimism, university clothing, and almost childish curiosity, it was easy to think of Stiles as the boy next door who watched his kids. Now he could see the stress of a man who taught at a prestigious university.

For a while they sat on the old couch in silence, only disrupted by the soft scratch of pencil on paper. Derek could make out the figure of a young woman on the page, growing more detailed under Stiles’ hand.

His voice caught Derek off guard. “Heather had just turned eighteen. She liked to ride her bike, so one afternoon, when she wasn’t back for several hours, no one thought much of it. The police called the house that evening. It was a hit and run. They never found out who did it.”

Stiles paused for a moment and Derek wrapped an arm over his shoulder, pulling him against his side. Stiles put down the sketchbook and swiped at his damp eyes.

“The doctors said she didn’t die immediately. She must have been there for hours, bleeding out. But no one missed her.” Stiles borrowed deeper into his side. “No one missed her, and I was attending school across the country. Maybe if I had been there, she still would be alive.”

Derek held onto him tightly as Stiles’ tears soaked his shirt. He wondered when he had started caring for him as more than just the babysitter. They could have sat there for hours, or maybe just minutes, before Stiles’ sobbing slowed and eventually stopped. When Stiles pulled out of the embrace, Derek got up and gathered some blankets from the closet.

“You can stay here tonight.”

Stiles slid down the couch, letting Derek tuck him in like he was Jacob or Casey.

“Dziękuję, Derek.”

He smoothed a hand over his hair. “You’re welcome, Stiles. Dobranoc.”

Derek walked through the kitchen on his way to bed. The bottle of Jack stood on the counter, still full.

 

CHAPTER 3

On Thanksgiving morning, Derek was surprised to find an unfamiliar vehicle parked in the driveway. Jacob and Casey were next door with Stiles, probably getting covered in paint before their Thanksgiving meal. He sighed, drying his hands off on the towel he had thrown over his shoulder, and went to go send the strangers on their way.

When he answered the door, he was greeted with an unpleasant surprise. “Karen, Luke. I haven’t seen you since the wedding.”

Karen brushed past him, into the house with Luke following close behind.  “Ah, yes, Derek dear, we wanted to check up on our grandchildren.”

Derek bristled. “I thought Paige was clear. You are not allowed in our lives.”

They were interrupted by the front door bursting open, Casey’s chattering close behind.

Stiles looked at the scene in the entryway, where Derek was standing with his arms crossed and glaring at the couple in front of him. He cleared his throat and Casey fell silent, still clutching his hand. Even Jacob pressed a little closer against his side.

The sudden quiet brought Derek back to his senses. “Karen, Luke, these are my children, Casey and Jacob. They were visiting next door with Stiles while I cooked dinner.”

He turned to Stiles. “These are my in-laws.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘ _why are they here?’_ and Derek could only respond with a hopeless shrug.

Karen huffed. “I cannot believe you are letting some hippy with an art degree watch our daughter’s children.”

“Derek, I think I’ll head back home.” Stiles’ face went stony. “You and your guests enjoy your meal.”

Derek sighed. “Stiles, wait.”

He stopped to give him a reassuring smile, then paused in the doorway, his gaze locked on Derek’s mother-in-law. “And, Karen, I do not possess an art degree, nor do I fit the definition of a ‘hippy.’ My name is Dr. Mieczysław Stilinski. I suggest you look it up.”

The in-laws stared in shock at the closed door. Karen recovered first. “How rude!”

Luke already had his smartphone out, trying to figure out how to spell such an odd name. When he finally hit a match, he froze. Even Derek stared at the small screen in shock. His next door neighbor had a Wikipedia page.

Karen began to read the summary out loud, effectively butchering Stiles’ name:

“Dr. Mieczysław Grzegorz Stilinski holds over a dozen degrees, including four doctorates. He has attended Harvard, MIT, CalTech, Princeton, Stanford, and University of Chicago. Currently, he teaches High Energy Astrophysics and Theoretical Physics, as well as lectures around the world.”

The oven timer interrupted Derek’s epiphany and forced his mind back to cooking. Jacob and Casey followed him back into the kitchen.

“Dad, can you send them away and bring Stiles back?”

Derek stared at his son. “Jacob, Karen and Luke are your grandparents.”

Jacob shrugged with all of the wisdom of a ten year old. “Well, they aren’t nice people. They were mean to Stiles and Stiles is more family than they ever will be.”

Casey nodded, latching onto Jacob’s hand. “Daddy, I want Stiles.”

Derek pulled the turkey out of the oven. It was a perfect golden brown. He bent down on level with his kids. “You are right. These people were mean to your mom and now they are being mean to Stiles. They don’t have to be our family.”

Casey did her own variation of a happy dance while Jacob asked, “Can we go tell Stiles?”

“Go tell Stiles. I’ll get rid of our unwanted guests.”

\---

Once Jacob and Casey were tucked in bed, Derek brought out another bottle of wine. Stiles sat across from him at the table, a nervous expression on his face.

“Derek, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Derek poured two glasses, then set the bottle aside.

Stiles sighed laying his hands flat on the kitchen table. “I think you know what I mean.”

“Well, I am a little surprised that I’ve been living next door to someone with a Wikipedia page.” Derek slid one of the glasses across the table, purely to watch Stiles’ long fingers toy with the stem.

Stiles didn’t look convinced. “Are you angry?”

Derek almost laughed. “To be honest, I thought you were a student for the first two months.”

Rolling the stem of the glass between his fingers, Stiles didn’t meet his eyes.

“Mieczysław.” Derek tried again. “Not a common name.”

“My step-sister has a normal name.”

“How many siblings do you have?” He knew about Scott but didn’t realized there were more.

“Scott, who isn’t actually my sibling, and then my step-sister Lydia who’s the same age.”

The same age. Not what Derek was expecting. “Who is older?”

“She is. By twelve weeks.”

They lapsed into silence.

“So. You’re Polish,” he prompted.

Stiles nodded, still not looking up. “My mother immigrated here before I was born, and my father is second generation.”

“You never studied art.”

“No.”

“What are your degrees in?”

Stiles laughed, although it was strained. “You want to hear them all?”

“Bring it on.”

“I have thirteen. Six are Bachelors of Science – Chemistry, Mathematics, Physics, Astronomy, Biology, and Philosophy.”

Derek let out a low whistle. Those were some heavy duty subjects. “And the other seven?”

“Three masters – Classical Roman Myth, Inorganic Chemistry, and Forensic Archeology; then four doctorates – Theoretical Astrophysics, Quantum Physics, Astrobiology, and Applied Mathematics.” He made a face. “The Applied Mathematics one was just because Lydia told me I sucked at math.”

“No art or music or Shakespeare?” Derek asked. None of his guesses were close.

Stiles shrugged. “I might go back to school.”

Derek laughed, then shook his head. “A bachelors and a masters was more than enough school for me.”

“Well, I graduated high school when I was fourteen.”

Fourteen? Derek blinked. “I started high school when I was fourteen.”

“And Lydia graduated when she was thirteen,” Stiles said dismissively. “My family and teachers pushed me. They had two genius children and they wanted the world to know. So naturally, I went to the most prestigious schools and hold all kinds of records for things that I don’t even remember.” He sounded bitter.

“Is that why you never talk about them?”

Stiles stared into the depths of his glass. “After Heather died, I started to think about what was actually important. I realized that I was treated more like a prized possession than a child. And Lydia and I never had a chance to be real siblings.”

Derek was shocked. The man in front of him was like a stranger once again.

Stiles sighed and got to his feet. “It’s late, so I am going to leave you here to process everything.” He paused at the door. “Dziękuję, Derek.”

Derek smiled softly. “Good night, Stiles.”

“Dobranoc.”

 

\----------

\---------------------------------------

\----------

 

Two weeks later, Stiles offered to drive Casey to her preschool. It was the first week of break for the university and Derek was grateful for the help. He was going into work early every day so he could come home around the same time as Jacob and Casey.

Stiles pulled his candy-blue Jeep in front of the preschool.

“Want me to walk you in, żabko?”

“Yes please.” Casey grabbed her backpack and waited for Stiles to open her door.

Stiles held her small gloved hand in his, letting go when they reached the door.

“Alright, kochanie. Your dad will pick you up at the end of school.”

“Bye Stiles! I love you!”

“Miłego dnia, Casey.”

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Casey hang her backpack. An older woman, who must have been the teacher walked over to Derek’s little girl.

“Good morning, Casey.”

“Dzień dobry, Mrs. Smith!”

Stiles felt something akin to pride. Casey was going to be bilingual if he had anything to do with it.

“Who brought you to school today?”

Casey pointed at Stiles. “That’s Stiles, he’s my other dad.”

The teacher followed Casey’s finger to where Stiles stood in the doorway, trying to hide his shock. He smiled at the teacher, then waved at Casey and turned to leave.

\---

Stiles made dinner that night, loving that he finally had enough people to cook his mother’s favorite dishes for. Over the past few weeks, he had found himself spending more and more time at the Hale’s, grading papers or even just watching TV with Derek after the kids went to bed.

“Hey, Jacob, can you go read Casey the new book we got for you?” he asked, when the last of the plates were cleared from the table.

Jacob jumped to his feet, tugging Casey along with him. Stiles had gone bookstore shopping with the two of them and Jacob couldn’t wait to read _Harry Potter_ to his little sister.

Once they were alone, Derek watched him warily, knowing this was a plot to get the kids out of the room. But Stiles just held out a soapy plate until he took the hint, standing beside him to dry the dishes as Stiles washed them.

They stayed like that for several minutes, the slosh of the water and the quiet clink of plates and silverware the only sounds in the room.

Stiles took a deep breath. “Today, Casey told her teacher that I was her other dad.”

Derek froze, looking shell-shocked.

Stiles carefully removed the plate that was still in his hands, drying it and putting it away.

“Derek, I’m sorry.”

Blinking, Derek came out of his trance. “Don’t be. It isn’t your fault.”

“I understand if you want me to put more distance between myself and the children.”

“Actually, I want the opposite.” Derek looked nervous. “Stiles, I…” his voice died.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want my kids to grow up without a second parent,” Derek set down his dishtowel and stepped into Stiles’ space. “Casey and Jacob love you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “ _Casey and Jacob_ love me. But how do _you_ feel about this?”

“I don’t know.” Derek pulled him closer, hands warm on his hips. “I might be a little in love with you too.”

“Just a little?” Stiles tilted his head, murmuring against Derek’s lips.

The kiss started out chaste, but then Derek buried his fingers in Stiles’ hair, and it was probably a good thing the kids were otherwise occupied.

Stiles pulled away first and spent a moment just staring at the man in front of him. “Jesteś taki piękny.”

“What did you say?” Derek asked, dazed.

Stiles hid his smile. “Pragnę Cię.”

“I guess I’ll have to learn Polish,” Derek said, absently sweeping one hand up and down Stiles’ spine.

“Kocham Cię, Derek.”

Derek smiled into his shoulder. That one he knew. “I love you too.”

 

EPILOGUE

_One year later…_

Derek stood to the side of seating area as Casey walked down the center of lawn, showering everyone nearby with flower petals. Once she reached the front, she ran to him, dropping her basket and flinging her arms around his legs.

“Daddy! Papa Stiles is sooooooo pretty.”

Derek grinned down at her. “I can’t wait to see, baby girl, but you have to go sit with Aunt Lydia right now.”

Casey pouted, but then bounced over to sit with Stiles’ step-sister.

Once she had settled down, smoothing out her fancy dress, Stiles and Jacob stepped into view on the other side of their make-shift altar. Jacob was supposed to be the ring bearer, but once he found out that Stiles didn’t have a daddy to walk with him down the aisle, he made it his job to escort him. This, together with the fact that Stiles was going to officially be a part of their little family, brought tears to Derek’s eyes.

\---

“Mieczysław Grzegorz Stilinski, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Derek couldn’t help the eyebrow raise and silent commendation to the officiant, because that was not an easy name to pronounce.

Stiles met his eyes and Derek could see his own joy and excitement reflected there.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr thing: [ HERE!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com/post/183759093542/a-thousand-reasons-why-who-had-the-nerve-to-ring)
> 
> EDIT 12 May 2019: Translations! Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies  
> żabko - term of endearment/diminutive, literally means 'froggy'  
> kochanie - sweetheart  
> Dobranoc - good night  
> Dziękuję - thank you  
> Przyjemnego dnia - have a good day  
> Dzień dobry - good morning  
> Jesteś taki piękny - you're so beautiful  
> Pragnę Cię - i want you  
> Kocham Cię - i love you


End file.
